A few weekends ago (maybe two weekends? I've lost track at this point), I took some of the boys and my own two adorbs children, and we went apple-picking. The boys had never been to the mountains before and peered out the windows as they emerged from open-mouth naps. Jayci and Caden chattered, beside themselves with excitement. The sun shone warm on our shoulders, peeking through the leaves as the boys and small children eat apples as fast as they pick them.
I know, I've written about this whole thing before. And I probably will again. Because I cannot help but think that I'm not alone in my tendency to look at pictures, posts, instagrams, tweets, what-have-you, and make assumptions. About who she is and who I am, and what they're doing and how she parents. How she probably never loses her temper and I most-certainly-do. Or maybe that they’re more together, less messy, better parents, more effective ministers of the Gospel. You name it: I can tend to think it.
But I also know how to take a good picture. And I know that anything can look beautiful in the right light.
And so the last thing I want is to present a face or instagram feed that makes anyone feel less-than. Because I have felt less-than, and it’s just not fun. So when you see these beautiful shots of us picking apples in the mountains with neighborhood kiddos and our own two beautiful children, you should know the whole story.
All of that said, we eat homemade apple sauce for weeks, while the rest of the apples go bad before we can possibly finish them all. We laugh in the sunshine and make memories, piecing together a patchwork life of family time and build-into-them time. And I know He is making beautiful things from it all.
